Waves, Pleasant as they are, are still the Seeds of Tsunamis.

[Weekend-Wondering]

Conch/Beachkit
Male / About 5 Moons / RiverClan / Sexuality Unknown
Pale bluish gray tom with tufts on his ears and nose and sandy patches with bright/light gray eyes

“O-Okay. I’ll swim the rivers, climb the mountains, reach the skies… yeah… but first I’ll have to learn to walk without falling on my face, I think,”
~Conch

TW: This character experiences frequent attacks of nervousness, panic, anxiety, and similar emotions that may be triggering to some readers.

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Goodness- how long had it been since the gray and sandy tom-kit had arrived to RiverClan? He was sitting awkwardly and utterly alone in the center of RiverClan’s evacuation area, staring ahead blankly underneath the growing darkness. It felt both long and short all at once, and somehow, the small kit was growing convinced that that he had both been here forever and that he had arrived just moments ago, despite the lack of realism in those thoughts. It was, slowly but surely, growing harder and harder for the patched tom to focus on the joy and wonders of joining RiverClan, thanks to the constant discouragement of his thoughts. With a long, sad sigh, Beachkit tilted his head down to stare at his paws, gaze filling with exhaustion and misery. With all of the bad things that were continuously going on in his head, you would expect there to be at least a little bit of light evening it out for him, but life was too cruel for such sympathy. Instead, Beachkit was left completely and utterly in the darkness of his own head. It was terrible. It was eating him alive.

Beachkit had woken up repeatedly during his sad little attempts at falling asleep for the night, and by the time he had given up and wandered back out into the open darkness outside of the kitten and queens’ resting place, the moon had just barely crept its way into the starry sky. The gray and Sandy-patched tom-kit had gone back and forth from pacing to sitting, pacing to sitting, and again on repeat over and over again until his paws stung. Once he felt the slight burn, he had slumped back down into a sitting position, and feeling the light breeze lightly ruffle his fur, he had gazed blankly up at the sky. There was a single, unwanted question clinging to his mind as he sat in silence, cutting up the very last remains of his happier, brighter, and more optomistic thoughts: Why? It seemed simple, but in a way, so we’re all of his problems. But in some way, in some fashion, shape, or form, there was so much unnecessary depth to it all, so much that Beachkit couldn’t keep it under control. It was terribly overwhelming… but then again, so somebody like him, what wasn’t terribly overwhelming?

There, now back to the ‘why.’ Why did Cloverpaw have to be dead? Why had Seabreeze not appreciated them when he first saw them coming in? Why did they have to arrive right when RiverClan was at the peak of chaos and struggle? Why was it that Sorrelkit could stay so happy, while Beachkit just sat over here crying himself to sleep? Why? Thoughts whirled and crashed in his head, and as usual, the gray and Sandy tom-kit started to grow restless, feeling the nervousness pulse through his veins and nibble at his heart. He needed to get moving, to get up and pace again… but what about sleep? Oh, how he desperately needed a good rest… when was the last time he had slept? Beachkit’s thoughts skirted to a very-temporary stop to make way for the realization that he wasn’t quite sure when the last time he had laid his head to rest was, but the literal moment that thought had passed, the negative thoughts continued to pile up and up in their own massive wreck of chaos. There was obviously no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep with all of this thinking, so Beachkit gave up on trying to seat himself and clam down stiffly. Misery dragging his heart down into the pits of his stomach, he leaned forward and hoisted himself up and onto his paws, preparing to start pacing again.

Beachkit managed to get onto all four paws without tumbling over in exhaustion, and sadly, he picked up the pace and returned to pacing right, left, front, back, repeat, waiting for his train of thought to slow down and reach a peaceful stop. Normally once he paced for long enough the thoughts would slow- not stop, of course, but slow- but this time seemed to be different. Instead, as he walked, Beachkit could only hear them getting louder, and his worries grew bigger. Oh, i-it’s alright, I kn-know… He forced the words into his head, but naturally, it only added to the brew of mind-fire. Beachkit shuddered with discomfort. Just pace more… a-and… then wait… for it to… e-end… yeah. The tom-kit obeyed himself and continued to pace, as his thoughts continued to rush and ride. As it worsened, his paws and heart grew heavy, and Beachkit felt his ears flatten. Ow. Shut up. Shut up, self, I said. Just. Shut Up. But what was the point, he was too far gone to shut his head up- his anxieties and their attacks were only inevitable by this point. But only once he reached the real climax of it all did Beachkit truly break down.

Eventually, this happened. The greatest thought, the real-big-boss of it all, rammed itself straight through his mind. We left home for nothing if our only goals, Seabreeze and Cloverpaw, are either d-dead… or… they hate us. We came here for nothing at all. We ARE n-nothing at all… oh no. Beachkit gave up. Trembling stiffly, he turned a tense head in the direction of the sleeping kittens and queens in their shelter, and with a strong quiver very much audible in his voice, he mumbled, “S- Sorrel…? Sorrelk-kit…?” T-too quiet, He snapped at himself, internally. Speak up, use the tongue you’ve got for once. Beachkit swallowed and with water dotting through the gray of his eyes, he tried again, a little bit louder. She had to hear him, she was probably sleeping His voice was frail and airy. “Sorrelkit, h-hey… Sorrel… c-can you… m-maybe… help…?” Nope. Not working for him, only making it worse. Beachkit gave up completely and with warm water beginning to escape his eyes, he hobbled on over to the nearest dark spot he could. It was just outside of the kitten and queens’ resting spot, but it was decently hidden until you actually looked around for it. There, tearing, Beachkit shrank down into a shaky crouch and shoved his tail tip in front of his eyes.

Sorrelkit better come… no, she better not! He started to tell himself, kind of-sort of breaking through the train wreck of his thoughts an stress. I don’t want her to worry for me, no… not anything like that, but… ow, I really don’t like this… and she can help, usually… usually she can… help me…? Well, maybe she hadn’t heard his calling. Maybe she was still sleeping, never to notice his tears. Not tonight, at least. So at that thought, Beachkit shuddered and sniffed, and with a slight whimper, he felt hot tears come streaming, raining down into the fur he had set out in front of his reddening gaze. He watched with round, wide, and disgusted eyes as his fur darkened underneath the rivers of tears, silently hating their existence. Such a crybaby, such… a… Sorrelkit, please…? Awkwardly and with struggle, he managed, “Sorrel…? Sorrelkit, can… you… maybe?” And that was that. Grammar failed, but if his sister was near and listening, she was bound to be ready to come and support him.

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~ @constellation (Sorrelkit) ~ //OOP nervous problems- anyway, once Sorrel shows up she can probably rub some positivity off on him. Sorry if this is a bit short or low on quality, I had to eat food while writing it :P \\